


In your Nightmares

by Multi_Elle



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Also my first attempt at Yumark, Alternate Univers- Witch Hunting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Based on the Spanish Inquisition, Context-typical Homophobia, I'M SORRY MARKHYUCK I LOVE YOU TOO, I'd say this is less angsty than it sounds, Idk what's up with my prompts either, It doesen't get worse than the summary in terms of torture so like ur good, M/M, Magic totally is a thing, Mention of torture and death sentences, Soldier!Mark, Yes I know, Yuta has got a cool door, bartender!yuta, it's light though, light Violence, okay so hear me out, wild historical inaccuracies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24477772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multi_Elle/pseuds/Multi_Elle
Summary: When he had wished, as a kid, to become a knight, to serve his King and protect his Kingdom, this isn't what he had imagined.His fantasies were made of glorious combats against barbaric oppressors, sword against sword and man against man. He dreamed of glory and honor.Nothing had been here to warn him about the constant smell of burning flesh impregnating his every cell, no one ever told him about the defenseless people they tortured until they went mad and begged for their deaths.He was part of the Inquisition, and with his partners they purged the Kingdom from the witches and the pagans. What he would never admit out loud was that with every day that was passing, doubt sunk further in his mind.--------In which Mark is a rebellious Inquisition soldier and Yuta is a daring bartender (and maybe, just maybe, a witch)
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin, Mark Lee/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 19
Kudos: 55





	1. 1 (My titles are original, I know)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *ヽ(◕ヮ◕ヽ)
> 
> I wrote a few amounts of disclaimers so I can't be sued, so here they are
> 
> Disclaimers:  
> \- I say 'witch' no matter the character's gender because wizard sounds too Harry Potter ish  
> \- If the legal drinking age in your country is 21, there is some underage drinking  
> \- This is based of the Spanish Inquisition which a christian-based institution. That being said my thoughts about religion and christianity are not reflected in this story please don't sue me  
> \- Also they put adultery bestiality and homosexuality in the same basket, again that does not (but like, really not) reflect my thoughts  
> \- Not sure when this is set, something like the 1500's????  
> \- There is some referrences to violence and torture but basically if you can get past the first five sentences you're good  
> \- Sex is also mentionned once but that's kind of it
> 
> OKAY ALSO
> 
> I wrote like a mini vocab thingie, so if you see a word with a star like so: word* it means there is it’s definition at the end of the page. 
> 
> That’s all, enjoy the story!

"Open up!" screamed his captain while slamming onto a door, whose wood was so old it threatened to crack open at any minute.

Not that any of the soldiers present would mind that. In the meanwhile the others waited around under the burning sun, their armors too heavy for their young bodies. If Mark despised the burn of the hot metal on his shoulders, he knew it was nothing compared to the sensation of the fire on your bare skin.

Rustling was heard inside the house before a window jolted open, a young man immediately jumping out of it, running for his life.

Mark's body responded like a perfectly oiled machine. Cases like this, he had seen thousands of. He ran after the boy, catching him in less than five minutes. A life of training rendered you efficient.

He wasn't the youngest Mark had ever caught, but he probably wasn't past 20. Wasn't older than what he was himself. Wasn't very different from him.

A woman came running out of the house behind them, and by the wrinkles of worry that peppered her face he assumed she was the boy's mother.

"Mrs. Na, your son has been denunciated for engaging in sexual activities with another man, which represents a minor heresy. He's to be judged at the Inquisition Court. Please do not interfere" said his superior.

Mark turned back to the young man who was trying to break free from his grasp, the other soldiers occupied with trying to keep his family members away. Ah, so that was what they arrested him for. It was a minor heresy*, the guy might live. The Inquisition didn't only chase witches: being a witch or a pagan was a major heresy, homosexuality, bestiality, and adultery (amongst others) were minor ones. If this case actually went to trial and if the guy repented, they might let him go with a few whiplashes or without one or two of his fingers.

But even this was too idealistic. Seeing how hard this guy fought to escape, how daring he looked, this is not how things would go. He would rebel and be executed, or worse.

"What are you looking at, huh?" he spit out when he understood his squirming wouldn't allow him to escape.

_I'm looking at you because I feel like I am looking at me._

He had to stop moving, or pebbles would tear his skin open.

Would it be okay for Mark to warn him?

This was the thought, the exact thought that cracked through his barriers, that allowed his mind to start thinking about inconceivable, forbidden things.

The young man fought back so hard, anyone would believe he was strong enough to tun away… Could Mark…

No.

A cry resonated beside him, the guy's cheek was bleeding.

He had to do something.

Anything.

"I'll let you go."

It went out of his lips in a breath, like a promise he made to the both of them.

He couldn't believe he had said that.

He had never slipped. Questioned his orders, yes, all the time. But acting on his words…?

The guy froze in surprise but he wasn't going to let his chance slip away and didn't wait too long to nod furiously. " Will everything be okay for my family? " he asked, voice raspy, broken... But somehow, relieved.

Mark hadn't heard relief in years.

He didn't feel like lying. " Probably not. They probably won't be okay even if you die. Please save yourself, that's the most you can do for them" he whispered.

The guy nodded, released a breath then pushed him with all of his strength.

Mark screamed as loud as he could, clutching onto his leg as if he was deeply injured, justifying why he didn't run after his victim. He didn't care about pebbles, didn't care about dust. Now, it was all about staying alive.

The act had to be convincing enough because the other soldiers froze in their tracks for a few seconds, enough time for the young man to run away to safety.

For the first time in years, Mark felt as if he had done the right thing. A pity the right thing included him probably being tortured the moment someone would find out what he had done, but it was worth it. At least the boy could be free.

"Lee? What happened?" asked a strong voice as a man with a mustache so big it was almost offensive appeared in front of him.

"I…I don't know. I think he used some tricks to distract me and then he punched my leg. I can't walk anymore. Sorry for letting him go."

Worry was nowhere in his superior's face, only anger and fury. Could Mark really blame him? They were conditioned to react like that.

" We'll talk about this later. For now, let's bring you to a doctor. Let's hope this shithole even has one, if not then you'll have to learn how to walk without this leg of yours" he said, almost in a growl. Having a suspect escape wasn't a good report to show the higher-ups*, especially when said higher-ups put people on pyres* for a living.

Someone grabbed him by the armpits in a clicking of armor before he was shoved onto a horse, faking a scream of pain as he was so. He could only hope the doctor would take pity on him or that he would be blind enough to miss the fact that his legs were perfectly fine. He couldn't back up now anyways.

The noise of the horse's feet echoed the beating of his heart in his ears. What had he done?

They stopped in front of a shabby house which strongly smelled like a mix of lemon, sage* and pure alcohol. Mark swore he could pinpoint the faint metallic scent of blood, but maybe the fragrance was coming from his own hands.

The officer who had carried him knocked on the door, which was quick to be opened by a young man, black hair and dusty face, who froze in his tracks upon seeing an Inquisition soldier. Having them come into your house rarely was a good sign. His gaze softened upon falling on 'wounded' Mark, though.

He helped him down the horse and into his house, and Mark's fake limping had to be convincing enough because he didn't say anything about it.

"He was injured during an arrestation" said the other soldier to the doctor. "See what you can do for him, we'll pay. No funny business".

The young man nodded. "Thank you Officer. Can you please exit the room for a moment? The examination requires some privacy." he declared.

The officer seemed conflicted for a few minutes but ended up leaving the room anyways. It wouldn't be a big loss if anything happened to Mark, if anything it would be good for the budget and he'd had a motive to condemn the doctor whom he probably didn't like seeing how he had behaved since they got here. A lot of people despised doctors because they shared some techniques with witches.

Once the officer was gone the doctor turned back to him. "I'm Lee Jeno. You are?" he asked, voice dry and fakely confident.

"Mark Lee" he answered, refraining from making a remark about their similar family names. The doctor nodded before raising his pant's legs up, an action that made Mark tense immediately. Though it was not surprise that appeared on Jeno's face.

"That's what I thought indeed. You have absolutely nothing" was all he said before Mark worriedly grabbed his arm. " Are you going to tell on me to the officer? " he asked, anticipating the answer.

The doctor seemed hesitant. Not hesitant about whether he was going to denunciate him or not, more like hesitant about his next move. "Depends. The person you are here to arrest…was it Jaemin? Na Jaemin?" he asked again, his gaze now full of fear.

Mark usually didn't know the victim's names but this time his officer had called the boy's mother 'Mrs. Na' so his name likely was the same.

"I think so, yeah" he muttered, not missing the choc and sorrow on the other's face.

"Is he…is he okay?" he asked, his lower lip trembling. Mark nodded. "I…helped. Yeah. Please, please don't tell anything." he begged.

Jeno cracked his first smile since they had gotten here, contrasting with the tears that were now pooling in his eyes. " Right. I- yes, thank you. That means the world to me. Sorry about the cold behavior I was just so worried" he said.

Mark wasn't sure how to react but still was glad he got out of this situation and made someone happy. For once.

" Were you two friends?" he asked, regretting it a bit when Jeno seemed to grow uncomfortable.

" Yes, you could say that" he answered after a moment. He then grabbed a long and thin piece of fabric and wrapped it around Mark's leg.

" Say that your ankle is broken. They have no way to check that and everyone will let you alone for at least two weeks. Don't walk on your right leg, though."

Mark nodded, thanking fate for finding Jeno.

Maybe he really had been given a chance to make things right.

"I'm sorry about Jaemin" was the last thing he said before 'stepping' out of the door on one leg.

Jeno smiled at him, a bit sadly maybe.

" Yes, I'm sorry about him too."

*****

When he had wished, as a kid, to become a knight, to serve his King and protect his Kingdom, this isn't what he had imagined.

His fantasies were made of glorious combats against barbaric oppressors, sword against sword and man against man. He dreamed of glory and honor.

Nothing had been here to warn him about the constant smell of burning flesh impregnating his every cell, no one ever told him about the defenseless people they tortured until they went mad and begged for their deaths.

He knew that what he was doing was right, but it didn't make it any less hard. He was part of the Inquisition*, and with his partners they purged the Kingdom from the witches and the pagans*. What he would never admit out loud was that with every day that was passing, doubt sunk further in his mind.

Finding a witch usually wasn't hard. It was often one of their neighbors who denunciated them. Mark didn't know much about magic, books on the matter being forbidden in the Kingdom, but the plaints all mentioned the same things. Weird rituals, suspicious use of plants and medicinal materials, odd behaviors and loud noises in the middle of the night. Some were wilder, reports of glowing eyes, blood-drinking, necromancy and satan worshipping were heard even if less common.

They usually were females. Mark didn't think that women were more likely to be witches but rather leaned towards the theory that people were too scared to denunciate males. Not that he gave it much thought anyway, he locked up the people he was told to lock up and that was the end of it.

But sometimes, who they arrested felt so wrong. Children were denunciated by their parents, any woman who had little pharmaceutical knowledge went as well, any man who breathed to close to another's belongings. The Inquisition didn't discriminate, they eliminated anyone who represented a threat.

And once your worse enemy is dead, you become the most feared and powerful being around.

The social promotion his status as an Inquisitor allowed him gave teenage Mark a rush of pride. Now it only made him sick to the stomach. Mothers kept their children away from him when he patrolled in the streets. Women didn't meet his eye. Men shrunk onto themselves.

He wanted to be respected and esteemed, instead he was feared by all. This was what power really was.

He had walked - obligatory crutches* in hand- into an inn* that one night, ready to drink his worries and the events of the day away and sleep far from the dormitories for once. Most of the Inquisitors spent their nights off-duty between a lady's arms but Mark wasn't into that. He told himself the job had killed the last trace of romance in him. He knew he lied to himself, another worry he liked to drink away.

He was trapped into his own world and only snapped out of it when instead of the glass of beer he ordered, a jar of milk was put in front of him.

" What the"-

"I don't think it's a good idea I give you more alcohol" said a voice Mark could only assume was the bartenders. He had already downed two whole pints, and his blurry vision only provided him with the sight of a slender man with long brown hair.

He furrowed his brows and fought against his exhausted body to sit straight on his stool, facing the other guy.

"I paid for this, give me beer." he blurted out. The sound of three silver coins being slammed onto the counter made him jump in surprise.

"Here's your money sir" said the bartender in a voice that only barely betrayed his animosity. Animosity? What the hell had Mark done to this guy? But as soon as he started thinking about it his thoughts caught up to him, making him sad all over again. Of course he had upset him. He upset everyone.

"I want beer. Give me beer" he almost scolded even if his voice sounded increasingly unsure. He wasn't used to anyone talking back to him, that was actually…weirdly refreshing.

" What are you going to do if I don't, burn me to death?" retorqued the bartender.

That remark made Mark's head shot up. He was not wearing his armor nor his sword, how could the man know he was an inquisitor?

He didn't ask, nor did he say anything, truly. He wasn't sure why but at this moment resting his head against the wooden surface of the bar seemed like a good thing to do.

A light tap on his neck prevented him from doing so and he frowned. This innkeeper guy really wasn't going to let him gain peace.

"I would drink the milk if I was you. I put some herbs in it, they'll prevent you from being hangover tomorrow. Not sure your captain would like that, would he?" he said.

Mark whined but felt the need to comply. He didn't know why this guy knew so much but he was drunk and tired. He couldn't care less.

" What if you poisoned it?" he still managed to ask.

He swore he could decipher a smile on the bartender's face.

" You're drunk out of your mind, utterly defenseless and the inn is almost empty. If I wanted to kill you I'd have had about a thousand opportunities to do so. Plus, I wouldn't have given you your money back. Or wasted milk on you." he answered.

Another question made its way to Mark's mind. "Than why are you being nice?" The guy's smile only grew wider.

"Because one day I might need you to return the favor"

Mark chose not to argue with that, the words making their way in his head, engraved in his memory.

He took the milk and gulped it all down in one go, enjoying its soothing taste. He laid his head back in his arms which rested onto the counter as he felt himself give in to sleep. And this time, no one tried to wake him up.

*****

Nobody had done anything to him in the form of punishment yet, but Mark knew that didn't mean he was out of trouble.

He was of no use if he couldn't walk, just laying around and costing the army food and space. They dismissed him for two weeks, the time for his ankle to 'get better'. Mark knew better than to trust that and stayed on the lookout at all times, knowing that he could well be followed or spied on. It was a bit stupid to be so anxious about it because truly he had nothing to hide, but knowing you may be under surveillance just had that capacity to turn the most stoic of men into a paranoid mess.

Not wanting to stay in his cottage all day with nothing to do he grabbed a cape and his crutches before heading out towards the inn he had been at a few days before. The bartender probably had a terrible impression of him but he knew how to appreciate the calm and underlying mystery of the place.

From the outside the inn was very discreet. Squeezed between two houses and with a bland white stone and dark wood facade, the only distinctive sign being the amazing door. The upper part was made of glass, thousands if not hundreds colored shards of it that filtered sunlight. Mark had missed this detail, his last visit having been at nighttime, and couldn't resist cracking a smile at the view of the colored shadow it projected onto the street.

He pushed the door open and was immediately welcomed by that shabby*, mystical ambiance that was so specific to that inn. A place probably no Inquisitor but him would step in for fun, a place that screamed 'witch', but oh if only Mark could care less. He wasn't even sure what he was for and what he was against anymore, were witches really worse than Inquisitors?

All he knew was that he'd never seen any witch burn people alive on public places.

He sat on a stool, laying his crutches on the ground again and pulling the hood of his cape on his head. That didn't stop the bartender from recognizing him though, or so he learned when a slightly calloused hand tapped the bar in front of him.

"Are you going to threaten me to serve you a beer?" he said, Mark having a hard time trying to understand if he sounded angered or rather playful.

He opted for the safer reaction, choosing to look embarrassed. " Ah, sorry about that. I was drunk. Obviously. "

It seemed to work well enough because the man scoffed, but still smiled in the end. " You realized that about three days too late but that's better than never, right? So what can I get you?"

'A will to live' was what Mark wanted to answer but he stopped himself from doing so. He was not going to start bringing his problems onto strangers. He brought this upon himself, he will deal with this alone.

" Can you give me some milk like last time? Ah, sorry if you don't remember but"-

"It's okay, I remember" said the bartender with a smile.

Mark internally cringed. So he was that much of a mess that even this man who saw drunk people all day remembered him?!

He chose to ignore his thought and to concentrate on the making of his drink instead. Like he had guessed it wasn't just plain milk, a lot of herbs being mixed inside, probably why it had had a very soothing effect on Mark.

He smiled when the drink was put in front of him, quietly sipping it down.

"Hey, do you believe in magic?" he suddenly asked. He was no too sure why, maybe because the mixing resembled some kind of potion-making. Maybe because of the atmosphere. Maybe because of this bartender with long hair and intelligent eyes.

Said man quirked a brow. "Is mister Inquisitor interested in his worse enemy?" he asked. Question nicely dodged.

" No. I'm off duty, broke my ankle on the job" he said, pointing at it. The bartender flashed him a knowing look. " Ah, did you?"

Mark squirmed a bit on his chair, growing uncomfortable under the bartender's clairvoyance.

He got away from the counter, seemingly to go and clean some glasses. " Well, milk is excellent for strengthening the bones. Make sure to come by often so you heal faster, alright Mark?"

He nodded, happy to see the grudge the bartender had seemed to be holding against him during his last visit was gone, before freezing again. " Wait…how do you know my name?"

The other smirked again, and never had Mark wanted to rip a smile out of someone's features that bad.

" You told it to me when you were drunk".

Mark was pretty sure he did not.

He picked his crutches up and put a few pieces on the counter, meeting the bartender's eyes for the first time since he entered the inn.

"I'm Yuta, by the way". He said.

Yuta.

A name he wasn't going to forget any time soon.


	2. 2 (I can write 10 000 words fic but I can't find chapter titles to save my life)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way I really love feedback, keeps me going and helps me get better! I would be so happy if you left a comment I might even offer you a cookie! (ᵔᴥᵔ) (Okay maybe not, but you'd have my eternal love and appreciation)

He felt so dumb right now.

A week. He has to wait a freaking week to find it in him to go to the inn again, the place not leaving his mind for one second.

Being an Inquisitor was hell - still not worse than being chased by an Inquisitor, that was sure -, which explained why he hadn't felt curious or excited by anything in years.

But this Yuta guy was something else.

Maybe it was his slightly over the top personality, maybe it was the fact that he was the first person to seem to give the tiniest bit of his interest to Mark in a period of time that was definitely too long.

Maybe it was that he was the only person who didn't look at him with fear when he found out he was an Inquisitor. On the contrary, he seemed daring.

He found it funny because of all people he ever befriended Yuta was the one who looked the closest to a witch. Was he playing with fire? Who cared.

Well maybe deep down he did, but he knew this problem of his would be fixed after a few pints.

He stumbled into the inn which was even emptier than usual. It was three in the afternoon after all.

Yuta was here of course, smiling as if he expected Mark's arrival. Was he that easily predictable?

He lifted himself on a stool, a pint of beer in front of him even before he ordered. Of course Yuta knew. What didn't he know, at this point.

Mark chose not to ask questions, returning the favor Yuta was doing him since the first time he had stepped into the inn.

Still, sometimes he caught himself wishing for the bartender to ask about him, to take interest in him. God, was he that attention-craved?

Someone snapped their fingers next to his face, bringing him back to reality.

" Hello sleepy guy. Everything alright? " asked the bartender.

Mark only nodded. " Yeah. I'm fine " he answered.

Yuta chuckled while preparing another client's order. " Okay Pinocchio what about you stop drinking and tell me what's up? " he said after the order was delivered, shifting his attention back onto his special client.

The boy bit his lip, trying to contain the flow of worries that threatened to pour out and drown his only auditor. " Why are you not mad at me?"

The bartender raised his brows at this odd question. " I don't know, should I be mad at you?" he asked, leaning back onto the counter.

Mark only nodded. " I'm not sure how, but you guessed I was an inquisitor. Then why aren't you mad at me?"

Yuta's gaze seemed to soften in understanding. " Oh. Well my first reaction was indeed to be mad at you. And then you came by sober and you turned to be a nice guy. I felt dumb so I stopped considering you as a bad person. That simple." he said.

Mark couldn't decipher if the other was being serious or not, the way he had said it so nonchalant he could barely understand his intentions. " I make a living out of killing people" he declared and he was not ready for Yuta to smile at this.

"I make a living out of getting desperate people like you drunk" he declared, growing more serious when he got no reaction from Mark. " Look. I'm not going to pretend I know you because I talked to you something like two times. But even in that short time span I could understand that you had some self-criticism and decent morals. I don't think you're a bad guy Mark, merely a good guy doing bad things." he declared, his smile not faltering for a second

"Right" was all Mark could say, a bit stunned from the bartender's speech.

A second beer was put in front of him, and he raised question eyes towards Yuta. "This one is on me" he declared.

"Why though?" asked Marked who was growing more and more dumbfounded.

He raised his shoulders, pretending to be busy with something else. " Who knows? Jaemin says hi, by the way."

Mark swore he jumped on his seat before sparring a look around. Did anyone hear them? Was Yuta an undercover inquisition agent? Jaemin, as in the guy he had let go? Why would he know him?

" What? " he asked after collecting himself, leaning in so the other few clients couldn't hear him.

The bartender shrugged, pretending to take care of something else. "Don't overthink this. It's not that complicated"

How could he seem so nonchalant* while holding a secret this big?!

" If the Inquisition was to learn that you know anything about him, they'd come and torture the information out of you Yuta" he said, trying his best to keep his voice low.

And of course, the older smiled. Just smiled, no trace of anxiety or fear. This had Mark calm down, and sit in his stool in silence.

"They could come and torture information out of me even if I didn't know anything," he said, raising his shoulders up in a gesture of disdain.

" And you're not worried that I will tell on you ?" inquired a still stunned Mark.

He was answered by a smirk, and the sound of a now-spotless glass being put onto the counter.

"We'd probably both go down if the Inquisition learned about this conversation. Besides, I trust you".

"But why?" was the last question Mark got to ask on this weird day.

Yuta stopped a moment to take another client's order, before turning back to the younger who was watching him expectantly.

"An intuition".

*********************

And Yuta had one hell of an intuition.

So incredible that Mark wasn't even really surprised to see a pint already waiting for him the moment he stepped into the inn.

Well, "stepped". He still had his -useless- crutches, and even though he was pretty sure Yuta had seen right through him the second they met he couldn't afford to leave them at home just in case he was actually being followed.

It was one hell of a luck he was a bartender and not an inquisitor, because he would be the most dangerous of them all. To be fair Mark had the certitude that Yuta had everything to be a great killer. Discretion, strong nerves, charisma, terrific perspicacity*.

In one sense that made him even more of an inspiration for Mark. He was what himself strove to be, someone who could do so much bad but who ended up doing so much good.

If being a bartender slash life coach in a shabby inn, holding secrets about fugitives and deserters* was considered "good", of course.

Mark didn't bring the topic of Na Jaemin ever again, neither did Yuta. Even the Inquisition was slowly fading away from their talks. What did they talk about? Mark couldn't say for sure, he just knew he liked it.

The bartender was as affectionate as he was savage, and it had weirded Mark out at first.

Being yelled at, being despised, that he was used to. Even just being straight-up ignored.

But being cared for?

That was new.

He knew it could be built on lies, some twisted strategy to get him to come back in the inn again and again, but he chose to believe in the only tangible thing in his life: the daily talks they had, his daily pint of beer that slowly turned into a glass of milk or water, his daily mourning-about-his-life session that slowly turned into a compilation of Yuta's jokes and smiles.

"How are you so optimistic?" he had blurted out once. " I mean, I'm not saying that it's wrong no no, like you shouldn't be sad you know? But yeah. Like… you get my point."

Yuta had shaken his head, half-laughing at his awkwardness, the one he always had whenever he asked about the bartender lately.

"I do. I'm not sure I know to be honest. It's because I chose to believe, I guess." he answered.

"In God?" was what Mark asked right after, only to be dismissed by another laugh.

"I have no God. I was more going for fate. I choose to believe that things get better, that they evolve."

Mark furrowed his brows. Did he not believe in anything then? Was that even possible? But then how would he deal with all the questions left unanswered?

He didn't bother to ask because by now he knew Yuta enough to say that the other enjoyed mystery. He was probably happy that most existential questions were left unresolved.

"And magic? Do you believe in magic?"

He had already asked this question, back to their second meeting, but this was not a question he was ready to leave unanswered.

Yuta probably remembered as well because he smiled at the glass he was currently cleaning, setting it down the counter once it was crystal clear.

"Only in my nightmares. I do, but I don't think it should. It messes with fate."

"Then why does it exist?"

Yuta grew confused and Mark could guess why. But as an Inquisitor, the minimum was for him to believe in witches or his job became completely pointless.

Because he didn't answer, the younger took the liberty to go on.

" Maybe fate needed to be messed with" he said, the roles reversed for once.

Yuta smiled and nodded, his way to show he was proud.

"Look at you, not only cute but also smart! Cheers to that."

Mark mirrored his smile and grabbed a hold of his beer pint.

"Cheers to that"

****

He knew it was a race against time, his talks with the cocky and philosophical bartender. He knew that sooner or later he wouldn't be able to pretend to be injured and would have to go back to the Inquisition. That's why he had decided to make the most out of every second they had.

He didn't know how Yuta could bear with him more or less cornering his entire attention, but he didn't seem to complain either. Mark knew he was an odd character, maybe that's why caught Yuta's interest. He seemed fascinated by the odd.

He didn't know how their conversations always went from light-hearted to deep to light-hearted again.

This boy could tear the truth out of his mind. For Mark, as long as he got smiles and laughter in exchange, it was enough.

He didn't know how to qualify their relationship. Friends? It couldn't seem to fit. Acquaintances*? Too impersonal.

Yuta was Yuta, unlike any other person. Mark couldn't begin to figure him out, and he liked that. He didn't feel stripped of his secret either, the other leaving him privacy. It felt good, that he could not deny.

He went to the inn every other day, sparing some time to chat or take a beer sometimes. The bartender had tried to have him drink something else but he could only stick to the basics. Not that the older seemed to mind, a warm smile and a pint of beer on the counter were always ready upon his arrival.

And he knew, he knew things wouldn't get back to the way they were before. He knew something in him had changed, something in him longed to fight back.

Nothing prepared him for how soon he would have to do so, though.

It started off as a normal day, him talking Yuta's ears off, the other giving him exclusively incredibly dumb or philosophical pieces of advice (no in-between), and serving the other clients when there were some. Mark had suggested him to do a bit of advertisement, or at least have a bigger sign in front of his pretty door but the latter had refused, saying he didn't want to draw attention.

What wasn't typical was the sudden change of expression on Yuta's face, the way his features froze and his shoulders tensed up, letting go of the glass he held in his hand effectively causing to shatter on the ground.

"Yuta??" said Mark, not masking the worry in his voice. "Yuta, is everything alright?"

The other didn't answer, still seemingly in trance. Mark could pinpoint the exact moment he snapped out of it because Yuta immediately searched for his eyes.

His expression terrified the younger who still had no idea of what was going on, because he had never seen it on him. Fear.

" Everyone, I've been informed of a fire casualty in the inn. Please everyone, evacuate " he declared, loud enough for everyone to hear him. Probably the first time Mark ever saw him lie, so he knew because Yuta's hand was holding onto his shoulder tightly.

'Don't go'. The message wasn't hard to get.

Once he was sure everyone was gone, Yuta jumped over the bar and to Mark's atonement pushed it against the wall opposite to them. He slammed his foot on the ground and the wood vanished to reveal a staircase. Mark didn't ask any question, not that he didn't want to, only because his brain was not processing any part of what was happening

What he did register, was Yuta's hands on both sides of his face, preventing him from turning his head away. Mark wouldn't have dared anyway, he felt like he needed to register every glimpse of Yuta he could. What he did register, was the pleading look in his eyes, brown orbs begging for forgiveness. What he did register, were words that flew out of the lips he wished he could have looked at longer.

"Listen to me. You go downstairs and you get them out of here. Tell them to go to Jeno's place, they will know what to do. After that, you go home and don't go out unless you are forced to. Do you understand Mark?"

He was unused to this situation, him being stunned and Yuta being seconds away from crumbling into pieces, eyeing the door like someone was going to barge in at any second.

But there was no one.

" No I don't! Why don't you escape too? Why can't you just come along? Yuta what is happening?" he inquired

Yuta smiled at him sadly, his eyes growing glassier. " If I go they will look for me. It's going to put all of you in danger. I- I'll manage Mark. I'll find a way out."

The younger felt a tear roll down his cheek when the situation started to register into his brain. " Who is coming for you and why?" he asked, his voice breaking, the question useless because they both knew the answer.

Yuta smiled again, eyes full of something new, and Mark was scared that it was regret. " Not you. Because you made the right choices." And before the younger could replicate anything he gently pushed him down the stairs, making him fall on his knees. Mark could only stare as he saw the floor reconstitute itself above his head. He could only hear as footsteps echoed on the floor.

The voices were muffled but not enough, not enough for him not to hear the too familiar voice of his superior enunciate "Nakamoto Yuta, you have been denunciated for the major heresies of the use of witchcraft and the hiding of fugitives. You will be judged by the tribunal of the Inquisition for your crimes".

Mark wanted to bang on the floor, to crack it open to go and help Yuta.

But if his training as a soldier had taught him one thing, it was that going headfirst into a battle he was sure to lose was not worth it.

Even if something deep down inside of him couldn't ignore that maybe the bartender was worth fighting pointless fights for.

Instead he dried his tears and turned around to see a closed door at the end of the staircase. Right, Yuta told him to help 'the others' to escape. Did he hide people under his inn?

Mark pushed the door open to reveal the sight of a rather spacious bur really dark room, that could have been cozy if the smell didn't betray how humid it was. He couldn't decipher anything but the faint sound of breathing betrayed the presence of other people in the room.

" I want no harm" he started, wincing at how broken his voice sounded. It was not time to be emotional, now he had to be fast and efficient. " The Inquisition is here. Yuta asked me to get you to Lee Jeno's house. Anyone knows him?"

A flame lit up in a corner of the room, weak, probably because of the moist air. But really, even though Mark had to double-take to make sure he was not dreaming when it appeared it was floating above someone's hand and not coming out of a match.

" Everyone, he's the soldier who let me escape. It's okay, if he could get in here it's mean Yuta trusts him anyway". Said the boy who had made the flame appear. Mark swore he knew this voice. Was the boy Na Jaemin?!

One after the other little flames appeared out of thin air, englobing the room in a soft orange glow.

A dozen people, mostly teenagers or young adults, were standing against the wall looking frightened.

Mark knew why. He knew most of them, the infamous* cases where people they had to catch had escaped.

Was Yuta the person who hid them here all along? But then why did he let Mark anywhere near his inn, knowing that he could eventually either denunciate them or just involuntarily drag the inquisition there?

Too many questions, and too little time. "We just have to leave. Does anyone know how to do that?" he asked, choosing to shut his brain for the moment. He had done that for about twenty years, a few more hours wouldn't hurt.

A girl he didn't know nodded. " This room has no access to those who don't have Yuta's magic. If you were able to get in that means he gave you a key. Not a physical object, usually the only manifestation of it is some sort of talisman on your hand" she explained.

He immediately looked at them to realize some white circles were drawn on his hands, creating a complicated pattern. Exactly the ones they told them to be scared about when he trained as an Inquisitor.

Mark was not scared.

He placed his hand on a wall like he had seen Yuta do with the floor a few moments earlier, and in a matter of seconds the rocky texture vanished under his fingers revealing a rocky pathway.

Was that magic?

_No questions, stay focused. Save the people._

"Everyone come, now".

The fugitives shared an unsure look, but then a loud slam was heard above their heads making them all run towards the newly-revealed pathway.

Mark squeezed his eyes shut as he ran after them, once he finished ensuring everyone was out of the secret basement.

_Don't think, don't think, don't think._

A hand tapped his shoulder and he turned to see Jaemin handing him a small paper sheet with symbols similar to the ones that used to be on his hand. " It's a fire talisman " he explained. "You can use it even if you don't have magic. Please do so, else you're going to run into a wall."

Mark gladly accepted the gift and soon a small, heatless flame was levitating above his hand. It was Jaemin's laughter that tore him out of his glaze.

"Pretty cool right? Yuta designed those. He's super skilled." he said.

Mark bit his lip, considering taking a break from walking for a moment but deciding against it, instead pulling Jaemin at the back of the group with it.

" Yuta…How did he manage to gather all of you?" he asked.

Jaemin seemed to think for a moment before starting his explanation. "Well I'm not a witch so this whole…magic thing is super weird for me, not gonna lie. But from what the others told me he has got premonition powers. He can't see the future but he can…sense things. He has " a feeling " something is about to happen, and he can know minor details. And of course, he can do like potions and talismans but I know nothing about those, you would have to ask Jeno." he said, his voice wobbling just for a second at the mention of his friend's name.

Mark lost the will to ask any questions after that and he just walked in silence, going through each of their conversations, calling himself an idiot for not noticing (or choosing not to notice) the thousands of times Yuta had proven himself to be a witch.

_"Then why are you being nice to me?"_

_"Because one day I might need you to return the favor"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nonchalant: To seem nonchalant means to seem like it's not a big deal, to seem chill
> 
> Perspicacity: one's ability to predict what's about to happen or to understand quickly
> 
> Deserters: soldiers who refuse to go to war ( here it is refferring to Mark)
> 
> Acquaintances: people who know each other but aren't friends (aka the people you smile at in the street but don't have a chat with)
> 
> Infamous: famous but in a bad way. For example Ted Bundy is an infamous murderer.


	3. 3 (I have to work on my title-finding skills)

The tunnel ended in the sewage, likely to be under a calm street or so Mark guessed due to the lack of sound coming from above.

The talismans had burned completely by now, and only the witches could now enlighten their path.

There were two of them. Two out of a group of eighteen people, Mark not included.

Was this the Inquisition efficiency rate?

Despite, the two witches didn't seem menacing in the least. They were two girls, one who probably wasn't passed 15 and another that Mark could probably take down in two minutes despites her being taller than him by two inches. Was this the terrible threat he had been fighting against all along?

Them, and a bunch of kids who were betrayed by their peers. What a glorious war.

He couldn't stop his thoughts from wandering towards Yuta. Mark had already made the assumption that he was powerful from the observations that he was tall and on the athletic side, and now he could only witness that he was right: he had been good enough to hide eighteen people right under the inquisition's nose, for years probably.

Was he dangerous?

Could Yuta hurt him?

Mark audibly scoffed at this thought.

Yes, probably. But he could also hurt Yuta. By now, he even probably already did. It was not fear nor betrayal that inhabited him in this moment, it was guilt.

The small group finally reached a sewer drain connected to what seemed to be an old utility ladder, abandoned by all, that was filtering a bit of light, a small enough quantity so Mark could assume the sun was setting. Good, that would be in their favor.

A dim hope, seeing as it was pointless to try and justify a group of eighteen people running away at full speed. Their salvation rested on not being seen.

But what if…

What if the best technique, after all, was to act as if they belonged in the streets?

What if they pretended to be anything but fugitives, the same way he had pretended to be injured and Yuta had pretended to be a simple bartender?

He submitted his idea to the group who was quick to accept. They carefully made it out of the tunnels and immediately split, with the goal to go through the city and to the woods where Jeno resided.

A plan that went stupidly well.

The darkness hid their faces and the clamor that came from the inns and taverns around them muffled their sounds. They slipped through the shadows, their hearts beating in their ears efficiently drowning their anxious thoughts.

Everyone made it to the woods.

Fake it until you make it turned out to be a great technique.

The moment Jeno's cottage became visible Jaemin started running to it and repeatedly knocked on the door until it opened, only to be engulfed inside the very moment it did so.

He was not surprised to see him crushed between Jeno's arms who was clutching onto him as if he would vanish away.

The Inquisition took people away from who they loved.

They took Yuta away from you.

The next part of his instructions was to "go home and don't go out unless you are forced to". Yuta, for someone who can sense future events you weren't very perceptive on that one.

" Everyone I'm going to need you to trust me one more time. You can't hide here, especially considering the number you are. Run into the woods, okay?" he advised.

Jeno furrowed his brows. " Even then, they will find us in the span of what, a week? It's not a long-lasting solution "

" That gives me one week to free Yuta then. In the meantime you run, and those who have magic use it to protect the others. If you can do that, I don't know. " he said, crossing his arms on his chest in an attempt to appear more confident than he really was.

Most people hummed in agreement at his suggestion. It wasn't Jaemin and Jeno's case. " You think you can free him alone? "

" I think I can try " he answered, not sure to be able to reassure them. " I'm the only one who has access to the Inquisition quarters. If I'm lucky they didn't see me in the inn and don't know my affiliation with either you or Yuta."

" But what if they did see you? " asked Jaemin, voicing his own worries.

Then they were all screwed but at least he would have tried.

The others read his answer in his darkening stare and chose not to ask any more questions. They knew he has thought it through and even if it as a little hard trusting him as they barely knew him he had already done so much…

Jaemin bit his lip in worry. " And have you considered he might be already dead? " he asked

Mark gulped. Of course, he had. He had imagined all the scenarios, including the worst cases ones and immediate execution definitely wasn't it. But again, he had to shoot his shot.

" They arrested him for helping fugitives, meaning they're aware that he has information about your whereabouts. They are going to keep him alive for a few days, they will try to get anything from him. That's the time window I will have to get him out.

Jeno and Jaemin shared an anxious look, but it was tinted with something new, with something Yuta had brought back into Mark's life.

Hope.

He helped them pack everything they might need, and watched as they all flee into the night, hidden by the secrecy of the trees and the moonlight, leaving him alone, standing in the grass in front of Jeno's abandoned cottage.

He comforted himself by thinking that maybe Yuta had predicted he would come for him. He always knew when he was to come to the inn, why would it be any different now?

He took off, ran to his house, careful not to be seen.

He was hurt, he was tired, but he kept his being fueled by the thought of that one peculiar smile he would do anything to see again.

***********

"Happy to see you are back in function, Lee. No more letting suspects run away, yeah?"

" Yes sir. I promise to be more efficient".

He straightened his back, adjusted his feet in his boots, raised his chin.

Fake it until you make it, fake it until you make it, fake it until you make it.

It took him about an hour to find out that no executions had happened the day before, meaning that the good news was that Yuta was alive, the bad news was that he probably wasn't in a good place.

Mark had to hurry.

Though he could not exactly walk around looking for one of their prisoners, so he had to painfully wait, waste time that was precious to his friend, vital, for an opportunity.

When it presented itself, it was almost dawn. The setting sun's rays were crawling on the dirt, reflecting on the dust and making the city look ablaze* as the Inquisitors hurried their horses towards the fields.

It was a regular signalment, townsfolk had told onto a lady for practicing weird arts and making strange brews*.

Even if he felt sorry for her Mark couldn't help but feel rejoiced. She was going to be Yuta's ticket to freedom.

They stopped in the middle of a tiny place, next to a broken stone fountain. Mark could only hope the woman would not put on a fight, he didn't want to have to hurt her. He didn't want to have to hurt anyone ever again.

Luckily, the door of a small wooden house opened on an old lady in a simple cotton dress, a shawl* wrapped around her weak frame.

She was in no state to put on a fight.

She didn't even seem sad, nor scared. She was the figure of resignation.

" Alice Sanren, you've been accused of the major heresy that is the use of witchcraft. You're to be judged by the court of Inquisition" recited Mark, a scroll of paper between his shaky fingers. " Please do not resist arrest ".

The woman let out a smile and looked at him like at an unruly child. "Do I look like I am resisting anything, dear? "

Mark had to fight the urge to smile back. He could not afford to blow his cover.

He tied the woman's hands with a rope before helping her onto a carriage to bring her back to the Inquisition's prisons.

When they finally made it there the ropes were gone and Mark could have bet the shawl had doubled in size to cover most of the old lady's body, but he didn't make any remark about this either. Good for her if she actually was a witch.

He tied her hand again and bid farewell to the officer who was with him before starting to make his way to the cells, his heart beating so loud in his ears he could barely hear his steps.

His breath caught in his throat the moment he saw Yuta.

It has only been a little more than a day, but he was already looking so hurt.

Dried blood was running from his lips to his chin and soaking part of his shirt, his long hair was all over the place, his breaths were short.

But he was here, and very much alive.

Lady Sanren chuckled upon seeing him as well. " Ah, so he is the one you came in here for".

Mark jumped at his words. Had he been found out that easily? How could she-

" Stay calm, dear " she continued, a knowing smile drawn on her lips. " I can read minds. I won't tell anyone anything about you, don't worry. Both of you have pure hearts".

Mark was so stunned he barely registered Yuta calling his name when he shot up inside his cell.

" Mark! I told you not to come-"

" But you knew I was going to do it anyway, right?" asked Mark, cutting him mid-sentence, his eyes getting glassier by the second.

A smile he could only describe as a mix of giving up and fond broke onto the older's face.

" You're putting yourself in danger"

If only he knew. If only it mattered. "The others need you" he whispered, defeated by Yuta's smile.

"Oh, the others right? Good thing I need them too, then."

Mark distracted his tears by fumbling for his keys. It would be way too tragic if he was to get caught only because he took too long chatting.

It was so easy, too easy to turn the key into the lock, to open the cage Yuta was trapped in like a circus lion, to throw himself into his wounded arms - not to hard, the goal wasn't to hurt him.

It felt like that barrier, the one made out of the bar Mark could not get behind of and of their mutual secrets, this invisible wall that used to stand between them shattered in a second.

Or did it?

"Ask it" said Yuta in his ear. "I know you want to ask it so bad".

He could almost believe Yuta was the one who did mind-reading, but again Mark was not good when it came to conceal his feelings and he was ready to believe Yuta could read him even when his face was hidden against the other's nape.

"Are you real? Are you really…Are you a witch?" he whispered, the words struggling to leave his lips.

"Do you believe in your nightmares?"

Mark huffed. "You count yourself as a nightmare? You're really closer to a daydream*".

Yuta only hugged tighter and Mark relished in the feeling of his hands in his hair and around his shoulders.

It didn't take long before he felt him stiffen in his arms and he knew that meant trouble, but he didn't want to let go.

"You've been followed Mark. They suspect you." he murmured in his ear, not letting go either.

Ah, he knew it was suspicious how effortless his return to the Inquisition had been. Of course he had been followed. They had to move now unless they wanted to be put on a pyre by dawn, all the three of them.

Bad news: escaping with a wounded man and an old lady was harder than escaping alone. Good news: now he had a sword and the other two people had…magic.

He untied the woman's hands again before directing them back to where they had left his horse, outside the jail.

Easier to write than to do because it took them about a minute for guards to show up, swords in hand and hate fueling their blood.

"Mark Lee, you are accused of crimes against the church, providing help to fugitives and engaging in homosexual activities. You're to be judged by the tribunal of Inquisition. Please do not resist arrest." said a man he once had called his superior.

He shot Yuta a look, taking out his sword as well under Lady Sanren's laughs. She had probably read his mind, and maybe "boohoo we just hugged" wasn't the most appropriate thought to have at the moment but well. He hoped she could enjoy the show.

"What happens if I resist?" he asked, unsure where he found the courage to answer. Maybe from Yuta's warm presence at his side. Maybe from his own internal fire, the one that used to be a single flame and which was now a whole pyre.

The captain looked a bit destabilized, and he only gripped his sword harder.

"You get killed and sent to hell." he affirmed

Mark could only smile at that.

"See you there then."

Magic was weird because it was discreet.

So was Lady Sanren, and Mark wouldn't have known she was the one to cast the spell that violently pushed the guards away if it wasn't for the sly smile that appeared on her face.

And Mark knew it now, he was familiar with the flame in her eyes. Hope.

"Why didn't you do that sooner?" he asked her in awe

The lady smiled before turning to him. " I read your mind back when you came to arrest me, and I saw that you rescued my dear granddaughter, both of you. I owed you to help to get Mr.Yuta out of his cell."

Not a word was spoken as they took off running towards the exit once again, but their smiles spoke loud enough.

Thank you.

Two horses revealed to be necessary to carry the three of them, Lady Sanren on one and the two boys on the other.

As the lights of the big city faded behind them, they knew they would not be back. They knew that the only way for them all to be free while avoiding war was fleeing. Were they powerful enough to fight the Inquisition? Doubtful, and lives would be lost. But Yuta alone was strong enough to hide them all away. They were not wanted? Fine. The remaining option was to build a world of their own, away from their oppressor's.

Soon the trees appeared, taller than the cities' walls, casting their shadow over the three approaching figures.

They got off of the horses, Yuta's hand not leaving Mark's back. It was stupid but there was no need to hide when no one was looking for you.

Did Mark like boys? Yes. Did he like Yuta? Most definitely.

It should have been this simple from the beginning.

And they went forward.

They stepped into the forest, into the night where even the moon couldn't reach them. They went far enough so they could see no light, hear no sound, forget the Kingdom and be forgotten by it.

Where they could build themselves a safe place to live and to love.

****************************************************************************************************

"Will you tell me what is taking you so long?"

Mark could have banged his head against the wooden wall in frustration. This was no time to be coquettish! This was no day to be late!

"I promise you will like this! Just wait" answered Yuta's voice behind the door.

Of course, as if repeating what he had been telling him for the past three hours would help.

A scream of triumph was finally heard, and the door's lock slid open on a radiant Yuta.

He had really overdone himself today. He was always one to care about his appearance, but now especially. He had a beautiful silky* black shirt and long white pants, wrist chains and pearls, and something shimmery in the bun he had put his hair in.

He looked ravishing, so much that Mark forgot about some of his anger for a few minutes.

"I swear Yuta if you spent the past hours putting glitter in your hair-"

"Why is your esteem of me that low cutie? Come on in, you'll see".

Mark decided he was already too stressed today to address the 'cutie' and decided to follow his lover inside the room.

And he had to admit it: it was so worth it.

He had crafted two capes, probably both magically and manually, a tasteful mix of silk and flax*.On it were embroidered* talismans, phrases, messages, drawings. Ah, so that was why Yuta had so many people come other these past days. Everyone had come to live a trace.

"Yuta this is…this is absolutely beautiful.." he said in awe, to scared to touch the fabric.

"Right?! It was Lady Sanren's idea. Do you think they will like it?" he asked with a grin.

Mark enthusiastically nodded. "They'll love it! It is so perfect, Yuta!"

He smiled again, wrapping an arm around his lover's shoulders.

"One thing is still missing, though. Your message for each of them" he said, handing him a needle and some red thread.

Mark carefully tied a knot and sat in front of the right cape. On it, he embroidered "The first good decision of my life. Live happily, know you are loved and deserve to live".

He then approached the second cape, and had to think a bit longer for the right words to come. Eventually, the cape read "My first ally. Let me offer the favor back. Live long, and happy"

It was hard but he knew Yuta helped guide the needle, and his work was done in less than half an hour.

Yuta took the right cape in his arms, carefully, before giving the left one to Mark.

"Now go give it to him. We can't keep them waiting, can we?"

He opened his house's door to a very nervous looking Jeno.

He had grown so much and even though he had almost no age difference with Mark, he couldn't help but feel pride looking at the strong 25 years old boy he had become, as if he was his big brother.

Contrarily to Yuta he was dressed entirely in white, the focus of his outfits being the long, loose sleeves that engulfed his arms and made them look like angel's wings. Thin golden leaves were placed on top of his head and on his clothes, making him look like a fairy.

Really, Lee Jeno looked mythical.

Neither of them was able to contain a sudden rush of emotions and if Jeno had to stop his tears so his makeup wouldn't be wiped out, Mark had less care and streams soon were running down his cheeks.

"Yuta made this for you" he said once he calmed down a bit, handing Jeno the cape he had in his hands. " Can I put it on your shoulders?

Jeno was quick to consent and so Mark put the silk train on his broad shoulders, letting it flow behind him like an ice waterfall.

"There you go."

Jeno anxiously looked at himself in the mirror for what felt like the 25th time today, checking his appearance.

His hands were shaking and he bit his lip, and in front of his friend's apprehension Mark wasn't sure what to do.

"Hey" he said, walking behind him. "It's all going to be okay. And it's an honor for me to be walking you down the aisle. I mean I'm sorry that it is not your real father but-"

"Don't be" said Jeno, cutting him mid-sentence before turning back to him, some confidence obviously gained back. "My dad was an asshole. I'm so much happier that it is you, thanks for being such a good friend".

Mark answered him with a warm smile, before extending his arm.

"Ready to go?"

When they stepped out of Jeno's house they were met with the vision of what had to be a fraction of paradise.

The wedding had been set into a clearing* next to the village they had entirely built a few years ago, after rescuing Yuta from the Inquisition. Now, wooden houses stood proud all around them.

The entire place had been decorated in white and gold, the grooms having chosen to stay traditional despite their wedding being so special: the first pagan one, the first one between two men, the first one between a regular human and a witch.

Jaemin had once told him that he was sure Yuta and he would be the first ones to get wedded, but in the end, Jeno had been faster to propose. Mark loved Yuta with all his heart but he had needed time, time to get used to being with a boy, time to learn to love, time to heal. Nomin had been soulmates for so long, waiting five years already seemed incredible to everyone who knew them.

The whole town's population was there. It was small, consisting of the people Yuta had rescued, Lady Sanren who now went by Lady Alice, and a few lucky ones who had managed to get to them after they escaped the Kingdom. All in all, no more than a hundred lived in the woods and yet, the first baby to be born was planned for June. Life went on.

Mark and Jeno walked down in between two racks of golden vases of flowers, surrounded by the cheers of the guests, all the way to the arch where the wedding had to be officiated. Jeno had asked for Mark to be his best man, Jaemin had opted for Yuta to be his, and they had both asked for Lady Alice to officiate. She was now standing under the arch as well, dressed in a beige dress Mark had seen her craft out of thin air. The lady's abilities were incredible.

When they arrived Mark gave a last tap on Jeno's shoulder before walking to the side, just in time to see Jaemin and Yuta arrive.

The groom-to-be looked incredible. His cape floated behind him, golden specks had been put onto his face on which seated a radiant smile. He looked full of love, full of life.

A small look to his left told Mark that despite all his efforts Jeno had started weeping quietly, but he decided not to make any remarks. He would have cried too, had it been Yuta. Speaking of the devil he had the audacity to wink at him, making Mark's heart miss a bit. This was not the day, goddamnit!

When Jaemin arrived in front of Jeno his husband-to-be was a crying mess, and he whipped his tears away gently with the back of his hand, getting him to calm enough for Lady Alice to start the ceremony.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered today to celebrate the union of Na Jaemin and Lee Jeno, two people who share a single heart and soul. They asked not to read vows because, I quote,"I will turn into a sappy mess" -this had her earn a death glare from Jeno and a laugh from both Jaemin and the audience- so let's get right onto the ceremony"

She cleared her throat, obviously trying not to cry as well. After finding her daughter back she had learned to know everyone in the past years, and Mark knew she saw them all as her children now. In a sense, they were.

"Na Jaemin, our town's cherished and very first artist, would you like to take Lee Jeno as your husband, and promise to love him through the pleasures and the hardships of life until death do you apart?"

"I do" said Jaemin, with the brightest smile he had shown so far.

Mark could not contain a rush of emotions and gripped onto Yuta's hand tighter, only now realizing he had been holding it. Guess it had become an automatism at this point.

"Lee Jeno, the best doctor and witch we know of, would you like to take Na Jaemin as your husband, and promise to love him through the pleasures and the hardships of life until death do you apart?"

"I do" he said, between two sobs.

"Under the authority of love and fate, I pronounce you both husbands. You may now kiss the groom"

She did not have to tell them twice before Jeno got Jaemin into a loving kiss, his arms locking around his waist, not planning on letting his husband go any time sound. And the other reciprocated, his smile still never faltering, his arms draped around his husband's neck.

And because he saw them so happy, because he felt so right, Mark finally found the courage to turn to Yuta.

"Hey" he said probably sounding like a strangled mouse but not caring.

"Hey" said Yuta with a grin, looking infuriatingly good.

"I love you"

His lover seemed to glitch for a few seconds, before smiling and planting a kiss on his lips. "Love you too"

He returned to watching Jaemin and Jeno celebrate, his arms still draped around Mark who didn't even need to turn to him to whisper.

"By the way I wondered…what about now, do you believe in magic?"

And he swore he could almost hear Yuta's smile as he softly answered "Only in my most beautiful dreams."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ablaze: on fire
> 
> Brews: usually used to describe a potion but you can call anything you can drink a brew (technically, no one really does it)
> 
> Shawl: piece of fabric you can put on your shoulders to like…not be cold
> 
> Daydream: a dream but you're awake. A fantasy, if you may. So dream= good stuff while sleeping, nightmare= bad stuff while sleeping and daydream= good fantasy when awake
> 
> Silk and Flax: those are two types of very soft, pretty and expensive fabrics.
> 
> Embroidered: when you do art with sewing. Like you use the thread to make a picture
> 
> Clearing: location in the middle of the forest in which there is no trees
> 
> \---
> 
> Thank you for reading until the end!!!
> 
> I'm deeply touched, and really hoped you enjoyed the story. Please leave your thoughts in the comments!  
> (And if you have some time on your hands feel free to check my other NCT works-)
> 
> Thank you so much and have a wonderful day ｡◕‿◕｡

**Author's Note:**

> Inquisition: Based off the Spanish Inquisition which was more or less a tribunal presided by the Pope that judged people who comitted crimes agaisnt religion (read christianity which was the religion of Spain at the time). Witch hunting was not part of their attributions (officially) and refers to other events. They did though actually condemned gay men. I encourage you to google it (warning: they did torture) because it is very interesting
> 
> Pagans: people who don't believe in God (generally used to talk about people who aren't christians including those who are from other religions)
> 
> Inn: An inn is something between a bar and a hotel. Basically you can drink there but you can also stay for the night.
> 
> Heresy: Crime against the church
> 
> Higher-ups: People above you in a hierarchy
> 
> Pyres: hard to explain, but basically when you want to burn someone (which I hope you don't) you have to put them on a big stack of wood and maybe hay. That's what a pyre is.
> 
> Sage: it's some sort of weed
> 
> Shabby: kinda dark, very mysterious. Usually used to describe something negatively, here it means the inn is well, mysterious and dimly lit.
> 
> Crutches: The stuff you use to walk when you have broken your leg


End file.
